


The Golden Room

by AJfanfic



Series: Snow and Dirty Rain [4]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: 1970s, Butch Ciri, Butch Geralt, Butch Vesemir, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fem!Geralt - Freeform, Fem!Jaskier, Fem!Vesemir, Femme Jaskier, Femme Yennefer, Found Family, everyone's a lesbian au, implied sex work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 04:26:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30066627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJfanfic/pseuds/AJfanfic
Summary: “There’s always work for you here,” Vesemir says. “No imposition, you’re family. Get that Yennefer to bring y’all down Monday, she can have the guest room for the night.”Geralt gets laid off. A garden, a fresh coat of paint, and an old house become a new home.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Snow and Dirty Rain [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1633876
Comments: 5
Kudos: 45





	The Golden Room

_ We were in the gold room where everyone finally gets what they want, so I said  _ What do you want, sweetheart?  _ and you said  _ Kiss me _. Here I am leaving you clues. I am singing now while Rome burns. We are all just trying to be holy. My applejack, my silent night, just mash your lips against me. We are all going forward. None of us are going back. _

_ Richard Siken, "Snow and Dirty Rain" _

The dykes are always the first to go. That was a fact Geralt had gotten used to. It doesn’t surprise her, and it hadn’t upset her much before. This time, though, her eyes burn as she walks in the door, a pink slip in her pocket. She drops her coat on a chair.

Jaskier looks up from where she’s scribbling in her notebook and before even saying hello, asks, “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Got laid off,” she says roughly.

Jaskier rounds the table and pulls her close. Between their two incomes, supporting the three of them had been a close thing. She says, “I’ll work more nights.”

Geralt wants to say no but bites her tongue. Jaskier knows how she feels about the risks her work poses. She breathes in the sweet smell of Jaskier’s shampoo. “I don’t want you to.”

“I don’t want to either, but what else are we going to do?”

“We’ll figure something out. I’ll find another job.”

“The rent is due soon.”

“I know.”

There isn’t much more to say.

Vesemir calls the next day and Geralt swears the old woman has a psychic ability to tell when something is wrong, no matter the distance between them. The longer Ciri is with them, the more she thinks it might be a parent thing. Jaskier sits leaning against Geralt’s shoulder to listen in.

“There’s always work for you here,” Vesemir says.

Jaskier raises her eyebrows in a question at Geralt, who shakes her head and answers both of them.

“I couldn’t leave Ciri and Jaskier for that long.”

“I meant all of you.” Geralt can hear the look on Vesemir’s face that asks  _ are you stupid, kid? _

“We wouldn’t want to impose,” Jaskier says, pressing close to join the conversation.

“No imposition, you’re family. Get that Yennefer to bring y’all down Monday, she can have the guest room for the night.”

And just like that, it’s more or less figured out.

Yennefer jumps at the chance to see Vesemir again. They pack themselves into her battered purple car with bags of groceries and a bottle of Vesemir’s favorite whiskey. Jaskier and Yennefer fight over control of the tape deck before letting Ciri pick. They speed down the highway, “Mercedes Benz” blaring. Geralt can’t help smile as the noise of the city fades away, replaced by the shout of the wind and her little family singing along.

The old farmhouse is much like its owner, weathered and grey in a way that would be imposing if not for the brightness of the life within. Vesemir is waiting for them on the front porch, arms crossed and grinning. Ciri looks between her and Geralt as they climb out of the car, then down at herself.

“I see what you meant, Yen,” she laughs. Between their hair, faded jeans, work boots, and muted flannels, the three look uncannily similar.

“Told you,” Yennefer says. “You were meant to end up here.”

Geralt drops their bags on the step and tackles Vesemir in a bear hug.

“It’s good to see you too, kid.”

“Been too long.”

Vesemir pulls away and smacks Geralt upside the head. “Now, who’s fault is that?” She holds her hand up before Geralt can protest. “Introduce me to my grandkid.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Geralt beckons her up. “This is Ciri.”

Ciri squares her shoulders and tips her chin up. “Good to meet you.”

Vesemir looks her up and down appraisingly. “Can you ride?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Then that’s our first order of business.” Vesemir throws an arm around her shoulder and pulls her into her side. “Why don’t we let Geralt put y’all’s stuff away and I’ll show you around. The ladies can put their feet up for a bit.”

“Hey!” Geralt protests even as she picks the bags up again.

“Vesemir is absolutely right, that long drive was just exhausting.” Jaskier fans herself dramatically.

“And you didn’t even do anything,” says Yennefer.

“Nothing but enjoy your company, darling.”

“You-!”

Jaskier darts up the steps, giggling, with Yennefer hot on her heels. She pauses to drop a kiss on Vesemir’s cheek before heading into the house.

It doesn’t take long for them to decide to stay. They hadn’t talked about what they were going to do next, too grateful to want to ask too much but the next morning over breakfast Vesemir looks up from her coffee and says, “I’m not sure how attached y’all are to the furniture you got in the city, but you’re welcome to the truck if you want to bring anything else down.”

“Honestly, a coat of paint and this place would be nicer than anywhere else I’ve ever lived,” says Jaskier, “furniture included.”

Vesemir smiles. “Then we’ve got our first task. Ciri, what color’d you like?”

She thinks about it for a long moment. “Yellow. Bright yellow.”

“Yellow it is, then.”

Vesemir introduces Ciri to the horses when Geralt goes into town to buy paint. Ciri decides that Applejack is her horse. Applejack has yet to agree, but with time and sugar cubes, Ciri is determined to win him over.

Geralt comes back with paint, and brushes, and a package of seeds that promise to someday be a feast. Jaskier’s eyes light up and she claims a plot by the porch as her garden.

“So I can sit in the shade and keep an eye on it,” she explains. She’s got a wide-brimmed hat on and her hair tied up, a pair of Ciri’s jeans too short at her ankles, and Geralt has to push the hat back and kiss her.

Vesemir kneels in the dirt beside her and shows her how to build a mound and press the squash seeds into the middle, how to make furrows for the carrots, and put marigolds around the edge to keep off the bugs. Together, they plant the seeds.

“Good work,” Vesemir says. “It’s been a long time since I’ve kept a garden here. It’s too much work for one person.”

“Most things are,” says Jaskier. “Most things are, honey.”

They don’t end up using the truck. Yennefer drives down again the next weekend, the rest of Jaskier’s clothes, her records and record player, and Geralt’s few books in the trunk. Jaskier runs an extension cord out the kitchen window and sets the record player up on the porch. Geralt and Vesemir argue over their plan of attack, but settle on taking the week to do the work, one side of the house at a time, top and bottom. Ciri ends up with soap in her hair and Jaskier’s top is soaked through by the time the walls are clean, and they have to take a break for lemonade. They tape off the window trim and pull the chairs away from the wall. Vesemir starts at the top with Geralt, claiming her knees are too old to get on the ground. Ciri obliges and lays on her belly to paint the edge where the porch meets the wall.

The project grows, as projects are wont to do. The house’s bright color makes the trim look dirty, so white joins the yellow splatters on their jeans. A rainy weekend leaves the kitchen bright green, cans of blue waiting at the foot of the stairs for the bedrooms and the next storm. Summer is beginning to frizz Jaskier’s hair by the time they finish and the house matches the riot of color outside.

Vesemir teases them for their taste and Ciri says, “That’s what you get for inviting a bunch of queers into your house.”

There is a glint of victory in the smile Geralt and Jaskier share at that, satisfied in the knowledge that they have done well. After dinner, Ciri and Vesemir do the washing up and Geralt follows Jaskier onto the porch.

Fireflies flicker over the dirt road. They stand for a long moment at the rail, a breeze keeping the night from unpleasant heat.

“Thank you. For coming here.” Geralt doesn’t say  _ for me _ but Jaskier knows her well enough to hear it.

Jaskier leans back against Geralt’s chest. She sighs, looking out past the small garden she’s planted beside the porch and the wide fields beyond. Geralt’s arms wrap around her and she feels very peacefully small.

“I knew I’d be happy here because you and Ciri are happy. And I am, but I’m happy here for me, too. All of this isn’t what I thought I wanted but it’s good in a way I couldn’t have predicted, putting down roots. I’ve never been in one place long enough to do that before.”

“What do you want, sweetheart?” Geralt says.

She smiles softly and says, “Kiss me.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is it! I'm officially finished with this au. If anyone wants to play here, you're more than welcome to.
> 
> I've stuck a few bonus references in here, see if you can spot them!
> 
> Mercedes Benz is by Janis Joplin, and the poetry quoted in the titles and beginnings of each fic are from [Snow and Dirty Rain by Richard Siken.](http://poeticfuck.blogspot.com/2008/06/siken-snow-and-dirty-rain.html)


End file.
